


Joining

by Meraad



Series: The Disaster that is Evelyn Trevelyan [9]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28548477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: Nearly two months after Blackwall's revelation of his true identity, Evelyn Trevelyan is forced to confront her feelings for the man.
Relationships: Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Female Inquisitor, Blackwall | Thom Rainier/Female Trevelyan, Blackwall/Female Inquisitor
Series: The Disaster that is Evelyn Trevelyan [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1244630
Comments: 12
Kudos: 24





	1. Chapter 1

“You fucking bastard!” 

Blackwall heard the shout as he lifted the ax, preparing to swing at the hunk of wood before him. He recognized the voice and knew it was directed at him. It surprised him, considering she’d spent over a month refusing to even look at him. Continuing with the momentum, he split the log and then glanced over as the woman came to stand beside him, hands on her hips, the picture of fury. But this rage was red-hot, something he was more accustomed to with her and considerably better than the anger that came with broken sobs.

“My lady, Inquisitor,” he inclined his head and her lip curled. “What have I done to displease you?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snarled at him. “You are  _ not  _ joining the Grey Wardens. You don’t get to just leave.” 

Inwardly, he let out a sigh.  _ Varric _ , he thought, had told her. _ Or it might have been the Iron Bull. _ In the wake of what had happened, the truth of his identity being revealed, he’d anticipated a lot more animosity, especially after Evelyn had refused to even judge him. He thought they’d all take a page out of her book and shun him. But after a handful of awkward days, he’d been invited to play Wicked Grace with a few of the men. Varric and Iron Bull always, occasionally the Chargers, and even Cullen had made an appearance or two. 

Shaking his head, Blackwall went back to his wood chopping, moving a new large piece onto the block. Some of the children had asked for dolls, and he would never refuse them. “Which one told you?” he asked and didn’t expect her to rat her informant out. “Did they fail to tell you I said I wouldn’t leave until we’ve defeated Corypheus?” Raising the ax he swung down, split the log, felt the reverberation through his shoulders. It was good, the manual labor, he thought. 

“I said you’re not joining them,” Evelyn pushed between him and the chopping back, tipping her head back to look up at him. Her cheeks were flushed and he could see her gritting her teeth. “You saw-you saw Adamant. You’ve seen what they did. How could you even think-” Her chest heaved with breaths and she curled her hands into fists. “You.” She pressed one of those fists to his chest, not quite a punch, but a solid thump. “Are. Not. Leaving.” Evelyn enunciated each word with a beat of her fist. “I’m not allowed to sacrifice myself, then you aren’t either.” 

Maker’s balls he wanted to take her into his arms, but he’d lost all right to that. He’d never deserved it in the first place. “My lady-”

“I said don’t call me that,” she cut him off.

“I should have hung for my crimes a long time ago, and you know it. You haven’t done anything wrong, haven’t committed unspeakable crimes. You say I’m not to join the Wardens, does that mean you’re going to sit on your throne and finally judge me?” He swore he heard her jaw pop she was clenching her teeth so hard. “What would you have me do? Inquisitor?” 

Evelyn blinked and he nearly cursed seeing the wet sheen over her eyes. She pressed her lips into a thin line and was silent for several heartbeats. “You are not leaving me.” She blinked and he watched a tear roll from the corner of her eye, down her cheek to her lips. Then Evelyn reached her, one hand tangling almost painfully in his beard, she gave it a sharp tug, and he leaned down, not resisting. “After everything-” her voice cracked. “You don’t get to just  _ leave  _ me.” 

“Ev,” he breathed out her name.

“I won’t allow it,” she whispered.

“Evelyn,” her name barely crossed his lips before she tightened her fingers in his beard, and then closed that last bit of distance and pressed her mouth to his. It was as if he’d been denied warmth for months, heat seemed to flood his veins, to fill his chest, and when she pressed closer, full breasts against his chest, that heat went lower. “Ev,” he said against her mouth and she curled her free arm around his shoulders and unable to resist any longer, Blackwall banded his arms around her.

One hand on her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist, the other hand in the middle of her back, crushing her body to his. “The loft,” Evelyn insisted before sinking her teeth into his lower lip. Obeying the command, Blackwall glanced beyond her, grateful that Master Dennet wasn’t anywhere to be seen. He carried her through the side door of the stables and into the barn. Across the hay strewn floor and up the stairs, where he set her down on her feet beside his makeshift bed. 

For one long moment, she just stared up at him.  _ I will never forgive you!  _ Her cry echoed in the back of his mind and he felt the bite of the blade against his throat. But then her fingers curled in the front of his sweat-damp tunic and she yanked, shoved, and had him on his back on the blanket-covered bales of hay. Evelyn sat up straddling his hips and rocked against him while she tugged her tunic up and over her head, revealing her bare breasts to his gaze. 

Unable to resist the temptation before him, he reached out, cupped her breast, his thumb rubbing along the puckered scar that spanned from shoulder to hip. Then he flicked her nipple and she arched against his touch. All the while hips rocking. Blackwall sat up, squeezed her breasts, and then wrapped his lip around the taut bud of one and sucked hard. 

Evelyn cried out, her fingers spearing into his hair, and holding him tighter. “Fuck-fuck,” she arched her back, and then she jerked away, scrambled off him and he expected to see regret, loathing, she hadn’t meant to fall into bed with him. But instead, she made quick work of yanking off her boots before shoving her trousers and smalls down her legs. 

Blackwall simply watched her, enjoying the view of her body as he always did. She was soft, with curves and fat. Weight from the child she’d carried never quite going away. But Blackwall knew how strong she was. He’d been on battlefields with her, seen her take on creatures three times her size without hesitation and be able to strike them down with relative ease. “Why aren’t you naked?” it was a snapped out question, but before he could react she was over him again, shoving up his tunic to reach the ties of his breeches. 

Yanking his own shirt over his head, he tossed it away as her deft fingers tugged open his trousers, slipped inside, and found the hard length of him. Evelyn gave him a few rough strokes, then he felt her wet slit against the head, and she drove her hips down. 

“Fuck,” he let out a guttural groan as Evelyn pressed her hand over her mouth, stifling the cry that escaped her. Then she began to ride him. Blackwall rested his hands on her thighs, not wanting to restrict her movements, and since her breasts were swaying right there, within such easy reach of his lips, he licked one, tasted the salt of her skin, and then sucked her nipple back into his mouth and felt her nails bite into the back of his neck.

Panting and gasping filled the air, Blackwall laved attention over both her breasts with lips, tongue, and careful teeth and even going so far as to be sure his beard rasped over the sensitive flesh. He felt her hand slid down between them, her fingers finding her clit and he was half-convinced that she’d bring herself to orgasm and leave him wanting.

Not that he didn’t deserve whatever torment she might decide to bestow. But he wasn’t done with her. He caught her hand, heard her gasp, and then grabbed the other and pinned them to the small of her back with one of his hands wrapped around her wrists. “You - asshole-” she gasped out, still rocking on his length. “Fuck- you-” 

Blackwall rolled them, taking Evelyn onto her back before he rose up onto his knees, never letting his cock slip from her sheath. She let out a cry, “you fucking-oh-” Her eyes rolled back and she arched as pushed deeper inside of her. "Oh," a long, drawn-out moan.  


Holding her lower body aloft, only her shoulders and head rested on the blankets, his hand still held her arms pinned at the small of her back, while the other hand gripped one thigh with almost bruising force. For a moment he just took in the sight before him. Dark hair fanned out in tangles around her head, her face the picture of pleasure. Down over heavy breasts and soft stomach to the curls between her thighs, then to the wet, petal pink folds of her sex that parted for the thick intrusion of his cock. 

Withdrawing slowly, his cock glistened with the evidence of her desire, he licked his lips, wanting to bury his head between her thighs and lap at her until she screamed, but that feel of her, so tight and warm around him - he drove his hips forward in a sharp thrust and her cry echoed off the rafters, her legs tightening around his waist, ankles locking together, he began to fuck her with hard, deliberate thrusts until she was all but keening. 

Releasing his grip on her wrists, he adjusted his hold on her hips. “Stroke your clit,” he ordered and Evelyn made a soft, gasping sound as sped up his movements. One of her hands shot up over her head, as if desperate for something to brace herself against, finding nothing she curled it in the blankets, and then the other hand slid down, parting the curls with two fingers, her middle finger jerked over her clit in near frantic motions. 

She was trembling. Her body slick with sweat and Blackwall felt a bead of his own sweat drip down over his temple. “Yes, yes, yes,” Evelyn panted, her thighs tightening against his sides, then she jerked, her inner walls tightening, squeezing around his cock. “Fuck. Fuck!” Evelyn’s body tensed, and the hand between her thighs slapped down on the blankets, curled into a fist around them and she arched, pushing against him, her legs an unbreakable restraint around his hips, as if to keep him there - as if he’d ever want to be anywhere else.

Blackwall bucked, unable to even withdraw an inch her thighs held him so tight. His own orgasm poured out of him, cock pulsing inside her wet heat until utterly drained he leaned forward, bracing one hand by her shoulder, he lowered them to the bed and rested his forehead against her breast bone as he tried to catch his breath.  
  


Evelyn lay quietly beneath Blackwall’s solid weight. His head pillowed on her breast, her legs still coiled around his waist, though it no longer kept their bodies joined. Her heartbeat remained an unsteady, rapid tattoo in her chest, and she felt sweat beginning to dry on her skin. Staring up at the rafters, she carded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You aren’t joining the Grey Wardens. If I have to get up on that throne and declare it in front of every person at Skyhold, I will.” 

Blackwall lifted his head slowly, met her gaze. “Please don’t make me get up there and do that,” she begged softly. His face softened and he reached up, one finger trailing along her temple.

“Evelyn,” he said softly and gave his head a slight shake. “You’ll never forgive me, not that I deserve any forgiveness for what I did. But-” he hesitated and swallowed hard. “I love you too much to let you keep punishing yourself for things you’ve never had any control over.” 

His words made it hard for her to breathe. “I said no,” her voice cracked on the last word and she drew in a deep breath, the hand not at his neck, coming up to gently tug at his beard. “Thom Rainier… I never met that man. I don’t know the person who would let money come before the lives of innocents.” Her jaw trembled and tears escaped the corner of her eyes and dripped down her temples before disappearing into her hair. 

“The man I know,” she continued, struggling past the lump in her throat. “The man I know as Blackwall is… kind. He’s protective and he spends all of his free time making toys for the children of Skyhold. He’s been better to me than I ever deserved. No matter how much I scream or rail at him, he’s never let me down.” 

“Evelyn,” he whispered, tears shining in his own eyes.

“You would stand between Rainier and the carriage. Cole keeps reminding me of that. You’re not that man anymore.” Shifting her hand from his beard to rest over his heart. “This man, the man that you are now-” she drew in an unsteady breath. “Is not going to join the Wardens. You can’t. I forbid it. I need you here, with me, beyond all this shit with the Inquisition. I can’t lose you.” 

The tears came now unchecked, streaming from her eyes and Blackwall cupped her jaw. He searched her face as if determined to find a lie or hesitation. “You don’t get to leave me like that,” she told him. “Not after everything we’ve been through.” His thumb rubbed against her lower lip and then he leaned in and kissed her, slow and softly. 

Tongues tangled and breathing turned heavy. When she felt the press of his erection, she slid her hand down to press against his back, and with quiet words urged him to push inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Evelyn lay on her back beside Blackwall, his soft snoring the only sound in the loft. It was dark, but the glow from the mark on her hand cast a soft green light on the locket she held up. It had been the last gift from Alexander before everything had changed. The tiny miniatures so perfectly painted. They had been gone for seven years, and since then, Evelyn had been alone.

She’d had acquaintances but no close friends, and after Kirkwall, she’d distanced herself even more. Why care about anyone when they were just going to die? Evelyn had loved Alexander, thought they would spend the rest of their lives together. That she’d get to grow old with him. Tracing her thumb along the edge of the painting she then covered his face. 

It was so easy to paint the dead as better than they had been. To build up the good memories and ignore the bad. Evelyn didn’t know if they would have lasted. Their love had been young and rushed. She had loved him. _Did_ love him. But they had wanted such different things.

The man beside her shifted, lips pressed to her bare shoulder and she turned her head to look at him. His eyes were on the locket and his gaze held such sadness. “If I could bring them back for you, I would,” his words were a quiet promise in the night and Evelyn blinked burning eyes as she looked back to the locket. To the picture of her child.

She opened her mouth, the words there, a confession to this man who she knew wouldn’t judge her.  _ I didn’t want him. Didn’t want to have children.  _ “Did you ever want children?” she asked and felt the breath he let out against her skin. Evelyn thought about her late monthly, and the flu that had led her to fret for those few weeks that she’d been with child, and wondered what Blackwall would make of it all.

“Honestly?” he asked and Evelyn snapped the locket shut, set it aside, and then turned onto her side to face him.

“Yes,” she said, resting her hand on his chest, fingers sliding into the curling hair there, while his hand slid along her arm, down her side to rest at the dip of her waist.

“I never gave it any thought. When I was younger it was the furthest thing from my mind. Though I’ll admit, there is a good chance that I am responsible for a handful of bastard children out there.” He gave her hip a gentle squeeze. “After-after, no. When I agreed to join the Wardens, I knew that was something I’d never have. Then after the real Blackwall was killed, when I took up his identity, I wasn’t going to let anyone that close, knew I didn’t deserve that kind of happiness.” 

The words were there, on the tip of her tongue.  _ I didn’t want children. I only had Isaak because Alex would have left me otherwise. For too long, I didn’t love that boy as a mother should. _ But she couldn’t get them out. Because what if it changed the way this man looked at her? And that, Evelyn, couldn’t bear. Pushing at his shoulder, Evelyn went with him, tossing her leg over his waist to sit up and straddle him. “I’m not easy,” she told him because she knew that. She was too quick to anger, selfish, and in whatever this thing was between them, she knew that they would fight, but letting him go at this point wasn’t an option.

Blackwall raised his brows, glancing down their naked bodies and Evelyn narrowed her eyes and tugged at the chest hairs near his nipple. “Ouch!” He slapped his hand over the hurt.

“You ass,” she muttered, leaning down to press her fists on the blanket on either side of his head. “But you’re right.”

“Ev,” his features went soft and his hands slid along her thighs. “It was a joke, love, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Evelyn shook her head. Some of her secrets were too much for her to even speak of then, but this one, she could give him this one. “I am though, I was-” she swallowed, leaning down to brace her weight on her elbows, his hands were still against her thighs, soft, and calloused as he pet her. “Alexander was the first man I went to bed with. We rushed to marry, and Maker, we were young. He and Isaak had been in Kirkwall for nearly three months when the news came.” 

Blackwall’s hands gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Within a month I went to bed with another man.” She’d just been so desperate to feel something, anything. “I have no idea how many men I’ve gone to bed with since then.” Countless scores of them. 

“Evelyn, you know I don’t care about that,” Blackwall told her, his brows drawing together. “I told you, when I was younger, there were, Maker, knows how many.” He pursed his lips with a frown as if trying to remember, to count them. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she tugged and Blackwall let out a quiet groan, his neck arching, exposing his throat and that barely noticeable scar. Such a thin pale line.

“You would have let me kill you,” she whispered, her throat suddenly feeling tight. He hadn’t resisted, hadn’t made any move whatsoever to push her off, though he could have with ease. But no, he hadn’t touched her until she began to cry. “Then who would have saved me from my self-destructive nature?” she asked and she glanced up, caught the sad smile that flitted over his lips.

“You would have been fine,” he murmured and tears burned her eyes. 

_ No _ , she thought. She wouldn’t have. Leaning down she pressed a soft kiss to the faint mark. “What a pair we make,” she breathed the words against his skin and closed her eyes for a moment, felt his fingertips skim up over her hips and her sides, then back down. “You don’t get to leave me, ever,” she said quietly, her tone serious. Because despite being unable, or maybe just unwilling, to face exactly what this man was to her, she knew that losing him would savage her. And after so much loss in her life already, she imagined that would be the final straw. “Have I made myself clear?”

The hands on her hips squeezed. “Yes, my love. So long as you never go where I cannot follow.”

Evelyn felt raw emotionally and leaned down to kiss his throat again, desperate to hide just how much those words meant to her. She kissed his collarbone, the hollow of his throat. Nuzzled the thick hair on his chest, and gently scraped her teeth over one nipple, then the other just to hear his sharp intake of breath. “Evelyn, Evelyn,” he murmured her name, his fingers slipping into her hair as she continued down over his belly. She licked the crease of one thigh, felt him jerk slightly, and then carefully scratched her nails along the other. “Fuck, woman,” he arched, and his cock twitched against his belly. 

“One of these days,” she murmured, her lips barely brushing the head. “I want to stretch out on the war table.” Evelyn flicked her tongue out, teasing the slit, tasting the drop of precum that seeped out. “And feel you fuck my throat again.” With those words, she took him deep into her mouth, heard him curse, and the hand in his hair tightened. She bobbed her head, sucking and stroking and letting her teeth occasionally graze his length just to hear him hiss. 

“Ev,” her name was a harsh breath, his hand tightened in her hair. “Fuck, love, you’ve got to stop-” She shifted, glanced up the length of his body, saw him watching her, and sucked harder, her fist around the base of his shaft moving in time with the motion of her head. Blackwall moaned, arched and a moment later his come filled her mouth. The salty tang coating her tongue.

Pulling her mouth off his length, she looked up at him, and he let out a filthy curse, before rubbing his thumb along her damp lower lip. “Swallow it,” he said and she finally did, then parted her lips to flick her tongue out over them, and his thumb. “Get up here,” his voice was like crushed rocks tumbling together. A low rumble that brooked no argument. Though a part of her wanted to object, because that is what she did, and she liked it when he manhandled her. 

Only she didn’t even have to put up a token protest. Impatient, Blackwall gripped her hips and dragged her up the length of his body until her thighs straddled his head. Evelyn nearly yelped in surprise, her hands braced on the bale of hay as Blackwall’s wide hands splayed over her thighs and dragged her sex to his mouth. He flattened his tongue, licked and Evelyn shuddered, knowing it wouldn’t take long before she was coming. 

The man knew exactly how to touch her. Exactly what it took to keep her dangling on the edge for as long as he wanted. Teeth sinking into her lower lip, Evelyn speared one of her hands into his hair as she rocked against his tongue in the slight movements that his grip allowed. But he teased her. Latching onto her clit and suckling until she was about to orgasm, before releasing the sensitive bud and pushing his tongue inside her, until she was panting, sweat trickling down her spine.

He cupped her bottom, squeezed, and turned his head to suck hard at her inner thigh, no doubt leaving a hickey. “I want to hear you beg,” he said and she cursed, tugging harder at his hair.

“Bastard,” Evelyn panted, and then he turned his head, bit at her other thigh. “Fucker,” she hissed. “I won’t-” he rubbed his mouth over her curls, barely grazing her clit and a whimper escaped her lips. “Please,” she rasped, “please, please, please.” She sounded desperate and pathetic to her own ears and she didn’t care because she was so fucking close and she knew he’d tease her for hours if she didn’t give in.

She saw the smug pride in his eyes before he put his mouth on her again and then all she saw was stars. 

Sometime later, Evelyn cracked open one eye. She was sprawled on her belly, Blackwall propped up on his elbow beside her, fingertips tracing the line of her spine. “Smug prick,” she muttered and he let out a low laugh, then leaned down and kissed her shoulder, the nape of her neck.


	3. Chapter 3

Blackwall sat, still naked, with a blanket around his shoulders to ward off the morning chill, with Evelyn leaning back against his chest as they watched the sky lighten with the dawn. They hadn’t slept much, and it would be a long day, but Blackwall didn’t think he’d ever felt so grateful for a sleepless night in his life.

Ducking his head he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder and she shifted, leaning her head against his. “We should get dressed,” he murmured. Skyhold was waking up and they couldn’t stay hiding out in the barn all day. Evelyn was quiet for a few long moments before finally dragging herself out of his arms. It was cold as they pulled apart and went looking for discarded clothing.

“Come spar with me,” Evelyn said, pulling her breeches up her legs. Blackwall watched for a moment, distracted, before returning to the task of pulling on his own clothing.

“Not in the mood to spar with the Seeker?” he asked.

She secured the breast band around her chest and grabbed the locket she’d set aside earlier and made quick work of fastening it at her throat. “I’m not in the mood to get punched in the face.” Evelyn grabbed her shirt and yanked it over her head and began tucking it into her pants. “You know our sparing always degenerates into a brawl within ten minutes.”

Blackwall drew on his own shirt, then pulled on his gambeson, his hands falling away when Evelyn surprisingly reached out to fasten the buckles that ran the front of it. “Why do you continue to spar with her then? Is it just so that you can see who punches who first?”

Evelyn shrugged one shoulder. “She’s a good fighter. I hate her, but I respect her and her strength. And maybe one day we’ll stop insulting each other, it’s unlikely, but it could happen.” The last buckle fastened, Blackwall reached up and cupped her face between his hands and lowered his head to kiss her softly.

Pulling away she sat down on the bale of hay and grabbed her boots, picking them up she tipped one over and several pieces of hay fluttered out. “Much as I love picking hay out of Maker knows where all day, we’re sleeping in my bed tonight,” she said without looking at him and Blackwall sat down beside her to pull on his own boots.

“Alright,” he agreed. She had to know he’d deny her nothing, and that she wanted him in her bed, in her space, meant a great deal to him. Finally dressed they got up and headed down the stairs, Evelyn tugging at her hair to get it off her face. Without thought, Blackwall reached into his pocket and found a leather tie, and held it out to her. She just stared at him for a moment and then took the offered item and made quick work of securing her hair back as they walked across the courtyard to the training yard.

“Ev’lyn!” a voice called and Evelyn turned her head to see the little girl she’d met in the gardens months ago, perched on her father’s hip. They both lifted a hand in a wave and Evelyn waved back as she and Blackwall continued on to the training yard.

“I don’t know why people are so afraid of you when you do things like that,” he commented and Evelyn narrowed her eyes at him. “The soldiers are grateful for how you’ve fought for them. Making sure that they are being rotated regularly, it means a lot to them.” 

Evelyn knew what it was like to spend months upon months away from loved ones. And maybe those first two years with Isaak would have been different if she hadn’t spent most of them miles and miles away. Though, if given the choice she wasn’t sure at the time she’d have made a different one. But these soldiers, her soldiers, would always have that choice. “You’re the only one too daft to be afraid of me,” she shot back as they reached the rack of training weapons. 

She felt Blackwall’s eyes on her and she grabbed a sword. Glancing over she felt butterflies take wing in her belly. The look on his face was one of such love that it made her feel warm all over. “I love you,” he said and it made her heart beat faster. Because he meant it. He wasn’t afraid to say it in front of twenty other soldiers. He loved her despite all of her flaws.

And she… couldn’t say it back. Those kinds of words were locked away, always had been hard to muster, even before. “Don’t think that is going to make me go easy on you,” she informed him, as he grabbed a sword and shield. “I’m absolutely going to kick your ass.”

With that, Blackwall threw back his head and let out a deep belly laugh that had Evelyn ducking her head to hide her smile.


End file.
